Beneath the Dover Sky

by Murray Pura

  “I know, Mother.”

  Lady Preston lifted the teacup to her mouth, her face still cut by lines and wrinkles of rage simmering just under her skin. “Your father and I are having our own row about Libby and Jane. We don’t see eye to eye on this issue, but I will say that Jane is a beautiful girl who deserves every opportunity to develop into a lady. I simply hope it happens somewhere else and with a different family—preferably American.”

  The pop of a cricket bat striking a ball came through the open window. Edward bent and looked out, keeping his hands in the pockets of his striped trousers. “Ben’s just made a hit. Ramsay is running for him.”

  Lady Preston’s sharp lines smoothed and rounded into a full smile. “Ben is exceptional. All week I’ve watched him when he didn’t think anyone was about. Working on climbing stairs. Walking on the grass and falling a dozen times. I understand it’s much more difficult than getting about on concrete walkways. But he climbs to his feet and carries on no matter what. I could see the sweat on his face. And how it must hurt! He went back to London twice in the past fortnight, Victoria tells me, to get his artificial limbs adjusted. He never quits, does he? A good lesson for our family. And for you, Edward.”

  “Yes, yes, all for England, tallyho, Mum.”

  She glared at him over the rim of her cup before changing the subject. “How is Charlotte feeling?”

  Edward finally smiled. “She’s a great beauty, isn’t she? Three months along and such color in her eyes and cheeks. I’ve fallen head over heels with her all over again.” He glanced out the window again. “She’s chatting with Victoria, Emma, and Holly. Ben’s still at the bat. Harrison’s bowling. Owen’s doing very well for himself fielding.” He let out a lungful of air and nodded. “Quite right, Mum. The fight must go on. Our family’s worth fighting for, isn’t it? And our country, of course.”

  “I should hope so, dear.” She set her cup and saucer on the white wicker table beside her. “That’s more like the Danforth spirit.”

  Lord Preston glanced up from his newspaper again. “I’d like to take Pluck out to blue water tomorrow morning. Are you game?”

  Edward scooped a handful of cashews from a glass dish. “I’d like that, Dad. Can I bring Owen?”

  “By all means. Short rations and weak grog, but I hope the salt air and enemy action will make up for it.”

  Edward popped a large cashew into his mouth. “I’m absolutely certain it will.”

  Jeremy and Ben stood under the willow trees in the dusk. The lights of Dover Sky could not be seen from where they stood.

  “One of the stumps had shrunk a bit more. They had to make some changes in London.”

  “How do your legs feel now?”

  “Never better. I can’t say I’m pain-free, but it’s much improved from a few months ago.”

  Jeremy smiled. “You’ve made a lot of progress.”

  “I’m doing it for Vic, Ramsay, and Tim. But I’m doing it for Michael as well.”

  “I understand that.”

  “So it’s time for the next big step, Jeremy. I’ve got to go up.”

  Jeremy squatted by the thin stream of water and took up some pebbles with his left hand. “When?”

  “This summer.” Ben gazed west through the willows at the last line of red light where field and sky met. “Look, I’ve got to do it on the day we crashed in August. Not before and not after. In one of our Fokkers. I have to be ready on that day.”

  Jeremy tossed the pebbles in his palm. “How will Victoria feel about it? Or your mum and dad?”

  “They’re bound not to like it. They’ll be superstitious about the date and say I’m tempting fate. But you don’t believe that, do you, Jeremy? You’re a Christian minister. God’s bigger than our doubts and fears, isn’t He?”

  Jeremy kept tossing the pebbles.

  Ben glanced at him. “Or are we prisoners of fate?”

  Jeremy shook his head. “Not in Christ.” He dropped the pebbles and stood up, brushing off his pants. “You have a destiny that’s in God’s hands. We all do. So how do we go about getting you up?”

  “It’s mostly hand movements. I just need a few run-throughs with the rudder while I’m on the ground because that’s what is operated with my feet. The chaps we have managing the airline are going to drop in with one of the Fokkers on that day. Then they’ll take it back to London because we have a lot of business these days.”

  “Will that be enough time for you to get a feel for the controls?”

  “More than enough. I’m thinking it will be far easier for me to fly than to walk or run.”

  “All right.”

  “Jeremy, will you go up with me? I need a copilot.”

  Jeremy looked at him in surprise. “I’ve never flown. Why are you asking me? Get one of your flying chaps to crew with you.”

  “You’ve helped me get this far. I want you up with me. Nothing’s going to go wrong. My hands are steady as rocks. All I need is to walk through the basics with you in case I need your help with the stick. I want Jeremy Sweet up there with me.” Ben grinned. “You’re my good luck charm.”

  Jeremy smiled. “An Anglican good luck charm? What happens when they take the Fokkers away? How do you keep up your flying skills then?”

  “Our SPAD S.XXs have been mothballed. They’re bringing in one of those as well and leaving it here at Dover Sky. I’ll keep flying with it.” He paused. “So what do you say, Jeremy? Will you go up with me? Will you fly?”

  Jeremy nodded. “I will, Ben. Why not?”

  The English Channel, near the Port of Dover

  “What do you think, Owen? How d’ya like it?”

  “I love the sea, Grandpa. Dad says he misses being a sailor on a battle cruiser.”

  “Does he indeed?”

  Edward laughed and wrapped a line tightly around a cleat on the mast. “I don’t like going into the drink. I like it best when I’m on top of the waves and not underneath them.”

  Owen smiled and closed his eyes as spray broke over Pluck’s bow. “I like the wind and the water, Dad.”

  “I see that. I expect you’re a bit of a sea dog. Likely in your blood. What say, Father? Didn’t we have seamen on Mum’s side as well as the Danforth side?”

  Lord Preston, in a dark-blue peacoat like the ones Owen and Edward had on, had both hands on the spokes of the wooden wheel and an eye on the mainsail as he steered. “We did. Sailed with Drake and Nelson—officers, privateers, explorers.”

  “Who, Grandpa?”

  “Too many to mention. Your grandmother is a Cornwall, and they have as many sea dogs as the Danforths.”

  The yacht slit through the Channel waters and chop, the waves like cold iron, the sky a mix of gray and blue and white, gulls turning in wide circles above their sail. The boat was trimmed in navy blue, burgundy, and white like the Union Jack that flapped at its stern.

  “You must tell me one story.” Owen tugged on a line slick with salt water. “I am your crew.”

  Lord Preston barked a short laugh. “Indeed you are. I have one tale then. I can tell you more when we’re ashore. This is from your grandmother’s side, mind. A Cornwall. A midshipman. Perhaps five years older than you are now. On board a British frigate right in this Channel. Got into a fight with a French warship with more guns. After a lot of smoke and flame and noise, Cornwall’s ship only had two working cannon, while the French had more than a dozen still in play. So what to do, Owen? Two guns, powder and shot running low, the Frenchmen bearing down on you. Do you turn tail and head for England or strike your colors and go to a French prison?”

  Owen puzzled this out. His blue eyes were so much like his mother’s as they remained motionless even as his dark-red hair, just like his father’s, was whipped about by the wind. “I wouldn’t want to do either, Grandpa.”

  “Ha! Duck your heads. Coming about.” The boom swung across the boat, and Edward and Owen stooped. “Spoken true like our brave Cornwall midshipman. Sheet her home, if you please, Master Edwa
rd.” Edward sprang to secure the line for the mainsail. “They surprised the French, Master Owen, by coming right on and ramming them, bowsprit to bowsprit. The French cannon were useless to inflict harm. Then they boarded her, screaming like devils, cutlasses slicing the air, pistols flashing, and after ten minutes they had her! Indeed, sir, they had her. They kept a prize crew on board, and sailed both side by side back to an English port. Might have even been Dover. In the great hall at Dover Sky you will see a painting of this very thing. When we are back and have our tea and jam I shall point it out to you.”

  Owen’s cheeks were red and his eyes bright as wind and wave lashed them. “You must tell me another, Grandpa.”

  “On shore in the officers’ mess. But I have a grand sea poem for you. Fragments of it, mind you, bits and pieces, windblown spume and hard hurled sea spray, but extraordinary for all of that. Now this poem must be memorized, Master Owen, word for word. Are you ready?”

  “I am, sir.”

  “Very well then. Ulysses by Alfred Lord Tennyson.”

  Lord Preston began to recite as Pluck continued to press ahead through the sea.

  I cannot rest from travel: I will drink

  Life to the lees: all times I have enjoyed

  Greatly, have suffered greatly, both with those

  That loved me, and alone; on shore, and when

  Through scudding drifts the rainy Hyades

  Vexed the dim sea: I am become a name;

  For always roaming with a hungry heart

  Much have I seen and known; cities of men

  And manners, climates, councils, governments,

  Myself not least, but honored of them all;

  And drunk delight of battle with my peers,

  Far on the ringing plains of windy Troy.

  There lies the port; the vessel puffs her sail:

  There gloom the dark broad seas. My mariners,

  Souls that have toiled, and wrought, and thought

  with me—That ever with a frolic welcome took

  The thunder and the sunshine, and opposed

  Free hearts, free foreheads—you and I are old;

  Old age hath yet his honor and his toil;

  Death closes all: but something ere the end,

  Some work of noble note, may yet be done,

  Not unbecoming men that strove with Gods.

  The lights begin to twinkle from the rocks:

  The long day wanes: the slow moon climbs: the deep

  Moans round with many voices. Come, my friends,

  ‘Tis not too late to seek a newer world.

  Push off, and sitting well in order smite

  The sounding furrows; for my purpose holds

  To sail beyond the sunset, and the baths

  Of all the western stars, until I die.

  It may be that the gulfs will wash us down:

  It may be we shall touch the Happy Isles,

  And see the great Achilles, whom we knew

  Though much is taken, much abides; and though

  We are not now that strength which in old days

  Moved earth and heaven; that which we are, we are;

  One equal temper of heroic hearts,

  Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will

  To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.

  “Hurrah!” Owen clapped his hands. “That is my poem! To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield! I shall never yield! But what is windblown spume, Grandfather?”

  “The thick white foam that gets in your hair and eyes like dandelion fluff. Will you have it memorized for me by the time we sail again, Master Owen?”

  “I shall. Will you tell it to me again?”

  “Over tea and jam, sir, over tea and jam.”

  Edward smiled as a large wave broke over the length of the yacht, soaking them all. “I think you told me the very same poem at the very same age. Only it wasn’t on a boat.”

  Lord Preston gazed up at the set of the sail. “It was on the Liverpool docks.”

  Dear Caroline,

  The heat can just about drive you crazy out here. Heat and hate. It takes me places I don’t want to go in my thoughts. Should I have married you after the war instead of Chris? Why couldn’t I understand how much I cared for you? How was it possible for me to love both of you at the same time? The long stretches of inaction are as murderous as the fighting with my head spinning around like this. But I pray, I think of how sweet a person you are, I remember how much we both loved Chris, I think of Matthew and Charles and I know how lucky I am…how blessed.

  In case you wonder where that picture is of you on our wedding night, the one where you’re indoors by the candles at Dover Sky with the biggest smile I’ve ever seen on anyone, well, it’s here in Morocco with me. I look at it all the time. It’s a bit curled from being in my pocket, and I suppose faded by the sun, but it’s still you—the most beautiful woman in the world, a beauty that never ended with what I saw but carried over to what I always knew about you within and without.

  I miss you very much.

  Kipp

  My love,

  Please don’t keep going back to the past. Yes, there was a lot of pain and confusion. But you loved a lot too. And now you are loving me with all your heart. I know that. We also have two sons we adore. And me, well, I have loved you since I first saw you at that Christmas ball at our estate when I was sixteen. Nothing has changed since then no matter what I’ve said or how I’ve acted or how disappointed I’ve been. God blessed me with a family and a friend I loved named Chris, who sees us from heaven and who wanted us to love each other and be together for the rest of our lives. Oh, Kipp, we have lived such an exceptional story! Look at what’s happening for us. I wouldn’t want to change anything because if I did I might change what we’re experiencing right now.

  I’m waiting for you. Come back to me, Kipp Danforth. Our honeymoon was too short. We need another as soon as you return to Dover Sky. The boys can come too. We have to go somewhere and just be the two of us and sometimes the four of us. I look forward to that very much.

  I am so in love with you!

  Caroline

  Dover Sky

  Victoria lay beside her husband in the dark, turning things over and over in her mind. Finally, unable to drop off, she placed a hand on his shoulder.

  “Darling?” she said softly.

  “Mmm?”

  “Are you asleep?”

  “Mmm.”

  “I just want you to know because I don’t think I’ve ever said it in so many words, that I think you are amazing.”

  Ben opened his eyes and lifted his head. “What?”

  “You crashed and lost one of your best friends. The doctors removed both of your legs below the knee. But you didn’t give up. You’re walking. Most importantly, you didn’t give up on your wife or your children.”

  “My wife and children? How could I?” He sat up. “Were you afraid of that?”

  “Yes.”

  “It hasn’t been easy, Vic—”

  “I know that.”

  “But it never entered my head to abandon you or the boys. Not once did I dwell on that.”

  “Do I have Jeremy to thank for that?”

  “Partly.”

  “I need a hug, love.”

  He gathered her into his arms.

  She reached down and touched one of his stumps. “This doesn’t matter, you know,” she whispered.

  “Shh.”

  “It doesn’t, Ben. You’re more of a man than most of those walking about on their own two legs. You’re magnificent, honestly.”

  “You shall give me a swollen head, and then I’ll have problems with that part of me too.”

  She played over his chin and lips with her fingers. “Tim and Ram are so proud of their father. Are you aware of how much they love you?”

  “I think the world of them. I’m glad they feel the same way.”

  “Ramsay asked if there was another war if you would enlist and fight. I sai
d no, that you couldn’t fly in the military again. Then he asked if you might not fight on the ground like Uncle Kipp is doing. I said probably not. He wept, Ben, how he wept. I held him but I couldn’t comfort him.”

  Ben said nothing for a moment. “You know, don’t you?”

  “I do know.”

  “How?”

  “A woman’s intuition. Comparing notes with Emma. Jeremy didn’t let anything out of the bucket, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

  “I have to do it, Vic. I love flying. It’s a bigger part of me than my limbs were. I can’t let it go. And I owe it to Mike. I do. He fought back and flew again after his crash and his brother was killed. Well, Mike was my brother too, wasn’t he? So I owe him the same. I’ve got to go up. I’ve asked Jeremy to go with me.”

  “Jeremy? He’s never flown a plane in his life. Why can’t you go up with someone who can take the controls if something goes wrong?”

  He stroked her hair. “Nothing will go wrong.”

  “How can you say that?”

  “Look, it’s easier for me to fly than to walk. Almost everything I do up there is with my hands. The rudder’s the only thing I work with my feet. I will practice on the ground with that until I’m confident my metal feet know their place. Vic, climbing stairs is more difficult than manipulating a rudder. And I’ll show Jeremy how to do that just in case I need help.”

  “But why Jeremy?”

  “Because his words helped me get this far—along with everyone else’s, of course. Yes, along with your words and prayers too. But I took my darkness to him, unloaded it on him, and he bore it.”

  “Is that the only reason?”

  He ran his hand over her back, up and down, up and down. “Perhaps it’s because he lost his arm in a war so he understands what I’ve been going through and what still lies ahead. I want us both up there on the anniversary of the crash.”

  She dug her fingers into his arm. “The anniversary? Ben, what on earth are you thinking?”

  “I’m not going to be ruled by fear, Vic. I simply won’t. God is bigger than the finger of fate, isn’t He?”

  “Ben—”

  “Isn’t He?” He kissed the top of her head and her soft auburn hair. “I’m going to change a day of darkness into a day of light. I’m going to take a day of mourning and make it a day of celebration. I have to, Vic. And God will help me.”